Just another day,
by Holly Hillocks
Summary: It was completely plausible that he was hallucinating due to a rapid onset of flu symptoms. And that the antichrist did not just answer Pip's door in just his boxer-briefs.


A/N: Strictly platonic -mostly ;) since I'm a style creek bunny Dip Grestophe fan. With tendencies toward crenny kristophe and creekomas. I don't know what this is,, they are snippets from a vague story-line that will probably never see light of day. Hope you enjoy anyway!!

I do not in anyway own these characters.

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Stan stared at his feet, kept his ears in tune to the heavy foot falls of the rest of the swim team as they made lap sixteen. Fuck. Running when it was cold was not good for his lungs. His chest felt constricted and his eyes were tearing a bit; it felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen and, fuck, he probably wasn't. He stumbled a little when a hand made contact with the back of his head.

"What the hell, Tucker!?"He turned to look at his friend who met him with his usual blank stare and middle finger salute.

"Take a break dumbass," a smirk," it sounds like you're in labor."

He ignored him and kept running, pushing himself a little harder so that he was ahead. And then he was hit upside the head again, this time he was actually tripped up. He glared at Craig who looked dispassionately back, and again, ignored the other boy.

Two and a half laps later they rounded back to where the coach stood.

"I have to take a piss." The now deeper voice of Craig's called from the front. The coach glared at the boy, may have said something about his use of profanity, but he nodded. Now, Stan was alone and the chest pain was getting worse and that just made him angry so he ran faster.

Five minutes later and he barely had his breathing under control. He could hear the foot steps of someone coming up behind him, and soon Craig was there shoving his inhaler in his hand; telling him to shut the fuck up and use it. He smiled a little and began shaking it while keeping his pace.

After a count of sixty seconds in his head Stan stopped. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before giving the inhaler a few more shakes and taking a dose. He held it for five seconds before repeating. A few minutes later with his albuterol shoved in his shorts pocket he caught back up with Craig- and smacked him upside the head.

---

It was-amusing. Kyle stood in the doorway of his lit. class just staring, trying to decipher the look on Tweek's face. The boy was staring at the front of the classroom brows furrowed in a what-the-hell-IS-that?!-face While his eyes were as big as dinner plates, his mind probably working on some form of psychobabble to explain, whatever it is.

"What's the matter Tweek?" He snapped out of his stupor upon hearing his name and looked at Kyle then back toward the board. He lifted his hand and pointed.

"What, the fuck, is that?" And Kyle stood, stumped.

…What the fuck IS that? And so he sat and they both just stared at it. It kind of looked like it had a tail, really bushy, like a squirrel. Kyle looked at the rest of it. No, definitely not a squirrel. It was red? Maybe rainbow-ish ,kinda looked like it had a brim. Kyle looked over at him.

"Do you think it's a hat?" Tweek deadpanned, and he looked so much like Craig right then, Kyle couldn't help but snicker.

---

After the third shovel of dirt sprinkled him, Kenny couldn't even pretend to nap anymore. He sat up, disgruntled by his sleep being interrupted and decided that, having shared some time in hell with the mercenary, it was perfectly fine to let Christophe know.

"Zen why don't you nap zomwhere else?" There had been no pause in the steady shovel movement and Kenny had been sprayed with dirt again in the middle of the sentence. After about six minutes of silence Christophe figure the other boy had left.

"So, where exactly are planning to dig too?"

And, again without pause came the sarcastic reply of: China. Kenny smirked and lay back down; finding nothing strange about the sudden change in direction the muddy discard had taken.

---

Butters blinked multiple times in rapid succession. It was cold; he'd been walking in the snow quite a while since Pips house was rather far from his own. He'd left soon after a shower so his hair had been wet. It was completely plausible that he was hallucinating due a rapid onset of flu symptoms. And that the antichrist did not just answer Pip's door in just his boxer-briefs.


End file.
